


Take 2

by mneiai



Series: Collapse [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, OCs are Tyrathan's kids, Vol'jin Survives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 21:39:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14029290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: Tyrathan wondered exactly what Vol’jin had told his people of him, if he was being treated like a dangerous friend or a placid foe.





	Take 2

**Author's Note:**

> Second in the Vol'jin-survives-and-the-Horde-takes-over AUs, this one is a little less dark.
> 
> We know that Tyrathan has children, plural, but only ever get details on the one, a daughter who was four when Tyrathan was in Pandaria. I decided to make her the youngest of three, with another daughter as the oldest and a son as the middle child.
> 
> Unbeta'd, etc.

All around them, people were pleading, crying, begging. Tyrathan was silent, crouched in the large cage they’d been shoved into, arms around his children. 

He’d almost fought, when the attack had started, but stayed his hand when he realized the Horde invasion forces were capturing anyone that surrendered, not just slaughtering them wholesale. If he’d been alone, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but he knew his children would be easy targets.

Instead he bided his time, keeping them as calm as possible and watching the guards. When a Darkspear troll finally came into view, Tyrathan carefully extracted himself from the small arms and legs around him and made his way to the bars.

“I need to speak with you,” he called, in perfect Zandali. 

The Stranglethorn accent he used to have was long gone, replaced with a very passable Darkspear one. On days when Vol’jin’s homesickness had been enough to show, Tyrathan had started using Zandali to speak with him, and after awhile Vol’jin had taken it upon himself to ‘correct’ his accent. It was useful, now, as the troll seemed shocked to hear it coming from a human.

The troll sneered, but came closer, looming threateningly on the other side of the bars. “What would you be having to say to me?” 

“I need to get a message to whoever the highest ranking troll in this place is--that Tyrathan Khort is here.”

The protest that was already starting faded as the troll’s eyes widened. He stepped back and looked Tyrathan over, shifting on his feet as he worked through his thoughts.

“I be letting her know,” the troll finally concluded, walking away. Tyrathan could just make out him barking in Orcish at some of the other guards, telling them not to harass Tyrathan or the children, before he was completely gone from the area.

“Daddy?” 

Tyrathan looked back to the corner of the cage, where his children stared at him. He walked back over, sitting on the ground and pulling them against him. “It’s okay, honey. I’m just trying to get us somewhere a little warmer, okay?”

His son frowned and Tyrathan knew what he’d say--that the Horde couldn’t be bargained with, that they were planning on using them as slaves, or worse. Morelan had filled their heads with all sorts of stories and while many of them were true, Tyrathan had found that they left out any bit of good about the Horde, leaving a one-sided picture of the Horde as monsters in his children’s heads. Tyrathan hadn’t been home enough to counter it and, admittedly, it had seemed too small a thing to care about before. Now he just hoped that their attitude towards the Horde wouldn’t lead to trouble.

Three trolls came to the cage within the hour, one opening it and telling Tyrathan to come out with his children. The other captured people around them watched as Tyrathan coaxed his children up and out, his youngest daughter, Eowan, in his arms. 

He took in the new trolls, looking for possible strengths and weaknesses. The one in charge was a shadowhunter, noticeable from his gear even without the odd aura around him that Tyrathan had learned to sense on Vol’jin. He relaxed, just a little, knowing that if anyone would betray Vol’jin’s trust, it wasn’t another shadowhunter. 

They followed the trolls through the town, prisoners and Horde alike watching, until they reached the inn that was still standing and were shown to a room. It was small, but clean, and had two beds for them to use. Even better, though, there was real food sitting on a small table, probably from the rations the army itself was using and not the stale and moldy ones the prisoners received.

“One guard will stay in the hallway at all times,” the shadowhunter informed Tyrathan, keeping to Zandali. “We will be setting out for Ogrimmar in the morning, leaving with the messengers.”

Tyrathan nodded. “Thank you.”

***

Yeana readjusted the blanket around her sister and moved away, taking the chair next to Tyrathan, the only other one in the room. As her younger siblings slept soundly, she’d clearly had a lot to think about.

“Dad...what’s going on?” It burst out of her, barely hushed to avoid waking the others.

Tyrathan sighed, glancing towards the door, then the beds, making sure everything was as settled as it seemed. “When I was in Pandaria, I recovered at a monastery.” She nodded, of course she remembered that, when everyone had thought her father might be dead. “There was a troll there, too, in a similar position as I was. The head of the monastery put us together, to observe how trolls and humans, Horde and Alliance, would interact. We decided to humor him...partly because we had no choice, partly because we were the only familiar things there, even if we were enemies.”

He paused, considering what more to say. He’d spent a long time thinking this through, knowing that someday he’d tell others, but he’d never fully decided on how to go about it. “We grew...closer. We fought together, when the Zandalari invaded, saved each other’s lives. And, after we went our separate ways...we kept in touch.”

She leaned forward, nodding along to his words, a hand over her mouth.

“He told me in a letter, not too long ago, that he had told the other trolls of me and that if I were to ever be captured that I was to inform whatever Darkspear I could find who I was.” Tyrathan internally winced, wondering if Vol’jin had done that as he plotted his attacks, realizing that Tyrathan would eventually be caught in one of them. “So that’s what I did. It’s not quite the same as not being prisoners, I don’t know what’s waiting for us, but we’ll be a lot better off than we could have been.”

“What’s going to happen to everyone else? To everyone still in those cages.”

“...I don’t know. But right now we have to think about Eowen and Bax. We have to make sure their safe before anything else, okay?”

Yeana’s expression became determined and she nodded, sitting up a little straighter. She had always taken her role as eldest seriously and as much as it pained Tyrathan to acknowledge it, she was nearly a young woman, old enough to be trusted with responsibilities like this.

“Tomorrow, when we go through the portal, we’ll be surrounded by members of the Horde. I need you to do what you can to keep Bax calm.”

She wrinkled her nose, but nodded. “Maybe we can just ask the mage at the portal to put him under a sleep spell?”

Tyrathan chuckled softly. “Only if you’re volunteering to drag him around.”

“Ooh, maybe we could get one of their shamans to turn him into a puppy!” 

“Not this again. I already told you when you were little, we can’t trade in your brother for a puppy. It wouldn’t be fair to whoever was getting him.”

They grinned across the table at each other and for the first time since the attack started, Tyrathan had hope that maybe things wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

***  
In the morning he carried a still sleepy Eowen as Yeana kept a tight grip on Bax’s arm. There were five trolls, now, the shadowhunter from the night before and four who seemed a mix between guards and jailors. Tyrathan wondered exactly what Vol’jin had told his people of him, if he was being treated like a dangerous friend or a placid foe.

The portal took them straight into a building. Yeana and Bax stumbled a little, having never been through one before, and Tyrathan allowed himself a moment to appreciate how quickly they recovered and observed their surroundings. He set Eowen down so he would have his hands free, just in case, and did the same.

“Four Khorts in Ogrimmar, I be fearing for the Horde itself.”

Tyrathan turned, smiling despite himself. “If you know much about human children, you’d know you’d be right to fear.”

Vol’jin laughed, moving closer. Eowen moved away from Tyrathan, remembering all his lessons about keeping out of the way of potential fights, and tucked herself behind her older siblings.

“I not be knowing much, except all the trouble ya king be causing his father growing up.”

“King Anduin was more of the rule than the exception.” Tyrathan pointed at his children, introducing each by name, though Vol’jin seemed to have little interest in them. “And this is...Warchief Vol’jin.”

“No way!” Bax shouted, face going white when he realized he’d drawn Vol’jin’s direct attention.

Vol’jin just laughed again and turned toward a door. “I be showing ya to ya rooms. Lunch be served there for the kids, today.”

Their rooms were part of a much larger building and Tyrathan decided they must be within Vol’jin’s personal home in the capital from the quality and spaciousness. The children shared a large room, hastily setup with three small beds that looked to be elven in origin. After dropping them off there, with two guards standing outside the door to protect them, Vol’jin drew Tyrathan further in.

“And this be ya room.” 

Unlike the other, this one was setup to house someone long-term. Someone human. The furniture looked to be in the style of Stormwind, the decor simple but clearly thought through. And there were too many doors, Tyrathan thought, for it to not be part of a suite.

He thought about the path they’d taken, the guards they’d seen, and the more ornate door at the end of the hallway--with the door to Tyrathan’s room being the last one before it. Walking over to one of the closed doors, he set his hand on it before looking back at Vol’jin, who had a smug, satisfied air about him.

The door opened into a much larger bedroom, necessary to fit the much larger furniture within. This room was lived in, papers littering a worn desk and the materials Vol’jin used to paint his face scattered near a mirror. 

Tyrathan closed his eyes, standing frozen in the doorway. He sensed Vol’jin approaching, but still made no effort to move, even as he pressed up against Tyrathan’s back, wrapped his arms around his waist.

“I be waiting for ya for YEARS now, Tyrathan Khort. I not be wasting any time.”

“...I can see that.” 

He lets himself be pushed into Vol’jin’s room, turning in his arms and carefully maneuvering between his tusks to kiss him. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with this, not with his children down the hall, their ultimate fate still unknown. But that was also why he didn’t want to protest, he wanted to have Vol’jin in the best mood possible before anything was decided.

“Be careful, yeah? I haven’t been with anyone since….”

Vol’jin’s eyes widened, then narrowed in satisfaction as he picked Tyrathan up and dumped him on the bed. “Ya be better to me than I be deserving,” he muttered, hands sliding over whatever part of Tyrathan he could reach.


End file.
